‘Watch RWISA Write’ Month-long-blog-tour: Featured author Nonnie Jules #RRBC #RRBC_RWISA @nonniejules

RWISA TOUR NONNIE JULES

Rave Writers – International Society Of Authors (RWISA)

August is Watch RWISA Write month. We will showcase a different author each day. Today, we celebrate author Nonnie Jules.

Let’s learn a little more about Nonnie.

The Author’s Story – @Nonnie Jules #RRBC #RWISA

Hi, my name is NONNIE JULES.  I was born in Texas, although am now, and have been a resident of the great state of Louisiana since I was a toddler, therefore, no one can tag me as a transplant…I am a true child of all things creole and Cajun.

I’ve been writing all my life.  I know, we hear people say that all the time, but with me, ’tis true.  I began to write because I wanted to be apart of that beautiful world of words.

Remember being forced by mom to turn off the lights at 10 PM so you could rest for school the next day?  Remember the flashlight under your bed covers so that you could finish those last few pages of  LITTLE WOMEN by Louisa May Alcott or TOM SAWYER and HUCKLEBERRY FINN?  Yes, I was that girl.  I was so madly in love with the amazing world of words, it’s all I wanted to do!  Literally, all the time!

I remember loving books so much, that each time I would pull one from a library shelf, I would close my eyes and sniff the pages, inhaling the scent of what was once a beautiful, living tree… and it would feel, almost as good as the feeling I get now, when my loving husband wraps his arms around me.  Today, each time I purchase a new book, the first thing I do when I sit down to read, is open it up and sniff the pages.  I fall deeper in love at the performance of this simple ritual.

Poetry was my first love.  I could listen for hours to my mom and her friends swap stories about “life,” and then I would scurry off to my little writing room (which at that time was a mini student desk inside of my closet) to write, in poetic form, about those lives..those stories.  That’s how it all began.

As a young adult, I would find that still, upon hearing stories of the experiences of others, I had to write about them, all in poetic form.  It was my way of sometimes enhancing the beauty of something as miraculous as the birth of a child, as well as turning something as ugly as the abuse of a child, into a positive, moving and uplifting collage of beautifully spun words, meant to inspire and encourage.   If you believe it so, something good can come out of something bad.

The poetry that I write usually stems from the experiences of those around me, those I hear about in the news, or even, in the glow of being mother to my wonderful daughters, I find words for those moments, too.  I hope, that when reading my work, you will enjoy it enough to share it with others…others who might be uplifted by it, who might be touched and encouraged, and others who may find strength in my simple words.

“How I know I’m a writer:  When I sleep, I wake to write;  when I dream, I rouse to write;  when I eat, I hunger to write;  when I drink, it’s my thirst to write;  and when I write, I write and write and write…until my Muse grows weary of the beating it takes from every keystroke of my hand.” ~ NJ

 

Because of the division that’s going on in our world right now, the hate that’s being stirred up and spewed by these White Supremacist groups, we felt it appropriate and extremely necessary that we share a piece from our President, Nonnie Jules, that needs to be wide-spread.

 

“DOES MY LIFE MATTER?”

 

I am a black woman, and because of the shade of my skin and coarseness of my hair, because of the fullness of my hips, my lips and the bold colors I wear…some don’t find me as attractive as my fairer counterparts.  You see, I’m no longer your house-maid or here for your sexual pleasure; no longer Mamie to your children, I’m now someone’s Mother…a treasure.  But, does my life matter?

 

I am a black man, and because of my dark skin and the boldness of my stance, because of the kinky in my hair, the anger in my stare, and the wear and tear shown on my hands…some still don’t see me as a man.  You see, I’m no longer your field property or your whipping post.  I’ve freedom papers and own land now, maybe, more than most.  You build cages to hold me, guilty or not; where you should build institutions of higher learning, you lock me away for little things, then leave me there to rot.  Do you forever see my bed as a cot?  But, does my life matter?

 

I am a white woman, and because of my milk dove skin and cute, pinched nose, thin ruby red lips and fair skin that glows…with my pearly whites and prominent chin…some still look at me and despise the skin I’m in.  I was never privy to the pain that was caused.  I was born into that hatred…those God-awful laws.  So, does my life still matter?

 

I am a white man, born into privilege and wealth, easy life, perfect health, yet…I’m still persecuted and referred to as “the man.”  I, too, hate the ways of the Ku Klux Klan.  My neighbors are black, white, green and red…still, I haven’t fled.  To be where everyone looks more like me, is not where I want to be.  I, too, would like to one day be FREE. Yes, FREE!  It also applies to me! FREE of the labels that bind because of the color of my skin; I’ve never owned any human or degraded any man. But, does my life still matter?

 I am a brown-skinned woman and because of my accented words, you think I should be silent…quiet and not heard.  I can do more, than clean your windows and floors.  Just ask me what I’m capable of, you’d be surprised, I’m sure.  I may have come here via the back of a truck, or even the legal route, if I was blessed with such luck.  Maybe I was born here, and my parents, too.  In your eyes, would that still make me less American than you?  Does my life matter?

 

I am a brown-skinned man and though maybe a bit stocky, I’m no less in appearance, than your brawn and cocky.  I’m not a rapist, a thief or thug…but a man like you, with kids to hug.  I’m not ashamed to tend your lawns and trees, but Executive, also a title I wear with ease; whatever it takes…my family to feed. Don’t dismiss, or overlook my face; I may not have been born here, but I’m here to stay.  And, with that said, does my life still matter?

 

With all that’s going on, there’s much racial unrest.  It’s time to put differences aside and put real LOVE to the test.  We can’t keep fighting each other, when there are real wars going on.  We must come together in love, heal and stand strong.  There are real enemies among us, and their names we know not.  We must stand on the front lines, together and talk.

The differences between us are fewer than those in our heads; and in the end, until we draw our last breath,  we all still bleed red.  Yes, that small matter is what makes us brothers, and binds us tighter than any other.

That stream of red flowing thru our veins, is what should force us to… release all blame, stop the pain, forge ahead, no more blood we’ll shed.

Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, to please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.  WE ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

Author page RWISA: NONNIE JULES

 

Contact via:

Email:  nonniejules@gmail.com

Twitter:  @nonniejules & @AskTheGoodMommy

Facebook:  BooksByNonnie

Blog/Websites:

Books By Nonnie

Watch Nonnie Write!

Ask The Good Mommy

4WillsPublishing

Titles:

“THE GOOD MOMMIES’ GUIDE TO RAISING (ALMOST) PERFECT DAUGHTERS” 100 Tips n Raising Daughters Everyone Can’t Help But Love!

TRAILER

“DAYDREAM’S DAUGHTER, NIGHTMARE’S FRIEND” (A NOVEL)

TRAILER

“SUGARCOATIN’ IS FOR CANDY & PACIFYIN’ IS FOR KIDS”

“IF ONLY THERE WAS MUSIC…” THE POETRY OF FORBIDDEN LOVE

TRAILER

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